Fear and loathing in the hills behind metropolis.

There's a creek that sits a dozen yards behind my house. Recently, I've gone down there after my Dad finally falls asleep, and taken what feels like real long walks down it. It doesn't seem that dangerous, a few crawfish and raccoons, but they don't bother nobody. Animals have always been real friendly to me anyways. If you walk far along enough down the creek, there's a bridge that supports the train tracks. Every Wednesday at 3 AM there'll be a train that stops on that bridge for a good 10 minutes or so. My Uncle who works at the yards tells me that it's a shipment of foodstuffs on its way to Memphis. Our town is its second to last stop. I get so tempted some nights to get inside of one of the train cars and make my way to the big city. I get scared that I'd miss my Ma, so I never do it. But one of these days, maybe after I finish 8th grade, I'll go there. Boys at school keep talking about how the wind storms gonna blow over this dirt trap, and I'd best get out of here as soon as I could. Georgia ain't as much fun as it used to be when I was young.

300 words or less.

 MY SOUL rests on an indigo night in the rainforest. Away from taxi cabs,overpriced delis, red lights and green lights. There are no economic theories here. Only a horizon that sits beyond the trees. There is no energy crisis. Only the tall glass of midnight oil sitting in the sky. 

 I sit at my cramped kitchen table, watching the clock drip past 3 A.M. Cigarette after cigarette breaks the boundary between me and the real world. I wait for the train to pass. A rumble in the jungle ever seven minutes, they say. There isn’t a perfect formula to living in this town, thus the need for 3 AM trains. 

 I forgot to close the bedroom door when I got up. Even as the light glares on her back, my wife doesn’t stir. She’s grown accustomed to these types of things. I used to be a salesman before I grew up, and I gave her the best pitch of my career. I wonder if any of my other customers are this miserable.

 As all sorts of animals graze underneath,in and above the plethora of trees, it breaths again. It walks along the river to a pond that is as still as it is clear. It does not bother, nor does it consume any of the liquid inside it. All it needs to do is watch it.

 A second train rides by. I’m going to be a mess at work. There doesn’t seem to be a place in this world where I can sleep. I need to work things out with the woman I chose to spend my life with. I need to quit smoking. I need to get through another night in Brooklyn.